A Study In Strangeness
by Little Box Of Secrets
Summary: Everyone's good at something, but in a world so full of potential, there's bound to be that one person who does the strangest of things...
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

You should never judge a book by it's cover and nothing could be said that could be more true in relation to the young woman sitting in the back of a cab, on her way to London.

You could never guess

her name.

You could never guess

what she was best at.

You could never guess

what she has done.

And you could never guess

what she will do.

Everyone is good at something, whether it is working with numbers or words, being good at painting, or drawing, or playing a musical instrument, or understanding a science. Everyone is good at something. But the world would be a boring place if there wasn't the odd little person who was good at the strangest of things.

After all, there is so much in the world

and nothing is impossible.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

She stepped out of the cab and pulled her large suitcase out onto the pavement beneath her boot clad feet. Pulling a few notes out of her bag, she paid the driver, giving him what he would see as a flirtatious smile, but it was simply her way.

As he drove off, cheeks a little flushed, she picked up her case and walked down the street. As she walked, a flash of light caught her eye and her head snapped back to where it was as she looked back to see what it was, not used to the city and all that came with it.

It was just a shop window, reflecting the glare of the sun. She could see the many people in the shop, bustling about, picking up seemingly random items of clothing, putting some back or putting it in a basket to take to the tills. Her own reflection caught her eye though, as it did most people.

On her feet were a pair of six inch block heeled boots, the boot itself going up to stop halfway up her toned and pale calf, the front mostly open, exposing her colourless skin, with six wide straps running horizontally all the way up to the top of the boots, silver buckles glinting in the warm sunlight. The top four buckles were hidden by her skinny jeans though, as they were pulled tightly over the shoes. The tight, black jeans ran all the way up to the top of her long and slender legs, ending at her narrow hips. Today she wore a black leather corset, hidden by her favourite black, leather bikers jacket, the long silver chain of her handbag slung over her head, the chain crossing over her ample chest, the dark blue PVC of the small, block shaped bag resting against the top of her left thigh.

Her straight black hair fell to her hips, the bright white highlights standing out a little more in the sun as a thick fringe cut across her face, leaving only her left eye visible, a curious bright green colour, rimmed with bold black, set against her deadly pale skin. Her lips were an interesting colour; a blue so dark it was almost black, but somehow soft, a metal lip ring poking out of her left spider bite piercings, the shiny black ball sitting against her skin, next to its matt black companion.

She tugged the metal running from one hole to the other on the inside on her mouth, the metal warm against her teeth. She smirked at her reflection and carried on down the street.

She didn't quite know why she was in London but she did know it was where she was meant to be.

She walked past a large gate and paused, looking back to it. Feeling the familiarity of the small tingle in the corner of her mind, she smiled slightly, walking through the gate, finding herself in a large green park, benches dotted around. She suddenly wanted to sit down and went to do so.

After a few minuets a man walked past. As he approached her bench, she saw him slow his steps, looking at her strangely. She looked up to him and smiled in recognition.

"Hello Sam." She said to him. He was dressed smartly, a white shirt over black trousers, shiny black shoes on his feet and his not too long blond hair brushed back neatly, letting the world see his bold but soft featured face, his blue eyes shining in the mid day sun.

He looked a little embarrassed though, a pink blush tainting his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but have we met before?"

She chuckled slightly, remembering their childhood. "Gwehelog Primary school. You were one of the few kids who let me be." She still remembered the children from her old home; they used to be so mean. Then they learned to leave her alone. It was one of the many things she taught the people of Wainfield Village.

"Aven?" He said, the name coming to him now, eyes going wide. "Aven Ash?"

"That's me. How have you been, Sam?" She asked, a slight smirk on her lips.

Samuel Stone had moved away from the gossiping and tight knit welsh village after his mother had gotten a job offer in England somewhere. She was only eight at the time, Sam being nine.

"I've been well." He said, walking over to sit next to her, taking in her appearance. "I see you've changed a bit."

Her smirk grew at this, her eyes shining a little brighter. "Just a little bit. What are you doing in London, anyway?"

"I work here now, St Bartholomew's Hospital. Got a flat and everything. Still got the welsh accent though!" He replied, a friendly smile on his kind features as she laughed at his words. "And yourself?"

She smiled enigmatically at the small question. "Oh, you know, this and that. I think I may get myself a flat." She thought for a moment, frowning slightly. "May have to share though; London is hardly cheap."

"Hmm…" He replied, eyes going to the side before going back to her face._ I wonder_….he thought.

Reading his facial expression, knowing he was thinking about something, she asked, "What?"

"I know a guy…" He started. "But he's not really….normal."

"Neither am I." She replied, trying to hide her little smirk. _If only he knew! _"Go on."

"Well, he's looking for a flatmate." Sam explained.

She couldn't hide her knowing smirk anymore. _Sound's about right_. "Fancy introducing me?"

Sherlock heard the door open. He was in the lab which he usually worked in, even though he didn't actually technically work at St Bart's.

"Hey, Sherlock." He heard Sam greet him. Sam was a relatively smart man and had a little more tolerance for Sherlock and his odd ways than most people. However the almost silent clicking of heels told him that the man was not alone in his interruptions.

Sherlock glanced up, taking in the appearance of the young woman.

She was tall, with six inch heel boots only adding to her height, making her a just a little shorter than him. She also held herself to almost her full height; confidence. However, he also saw that the one eye that was on show was taking in all the equipment on the table. So she wasn't used to such high tech things. The bright green eye didn't widen or show any sign of wanting to look through the equipment like most people though, so she wasn't curious about it then. So she either knew what most of it was or was simply not interested. But then if she wasn't curious of the equipment, then why was her eye moving so fast? Possibly new to the area, the suitcase she had placed by the door confirming that she was probably staying around for a while.

He could see the tips of lettering in ink on the inside of her left wrist that was resting against the chain of her handbag, but he couldn't make out the word. _Probably a name; sibling, mother or father, _he decided.

He noted the piercings in her lip and thought that she most likely either had relaxed parents or she was rebellious. Coupled with her dark, attention drawing appearance he was leaning towards rebellious.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone?" He asked, going back to his work. His glance had lasted less than a second. "Mine's got no signal."

At the sudden words of the man at the desk, Aven's eyes snapped to him. She took a deep breath through her nose, scanning him over quickly. _Definitely on the right track, _she thought. "Tried the landline?" She offered.

He didn't even look up, though his thoughts of her confidence were confirmed. "I prefer to text. Sam?"

"Sorry, out of juice." Sam replied, shrugging slightly.

"Here." She said, taking her own phone out of her bag. "Use mine, if you want."

Sherlock looked up, noting that her eyes seemed a little brighter in colour. _Trick of the light perhaps? _He thought, taking the phone from the confident young woman. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." She said, smirk growing a little. "I heard you were looking for a flat mate."

"I am." He stated, knowing why she was here now. "Didn't take you long, Sam."

"Well, you know me..." Sam grinned, remembering their earlier conversation.

"So…?" Aven prodded a little, wanting the man to continue; she never was one to stand still for long, though she never rushed anything she did either.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. We should be able to afford it between us." Sherlock explained, handing her back her phone after sending the message, putting on his scarf and coat after that. "We'll meet there tomorrow, 7 pm. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." He gave a polite smile and headed for the door. He was called back though.

"Aren't you forgetting something, sir?" She asked.

He turned back to stand in front of her, looking her in the green eye. "Oh, did I?"

"Yes." She replied simply, a smile still on her face. "I don't know the address. You haven't told me your name, and I haven't told you mine. I think we should at least know that much about each other."

"Sorry…" Sam chipped in then, though neither Sherlock nor Aven looked away from each other, locked in a staring contest. "I should have introduced you both."

"No worries, Sam." Aven said lightly, not holding out her hand to the taller man, knowing he wouldn't take it anyway. She introduced herself with a knowing smile. "Aven Ash."

Sherlock saw something different in her eyes; he wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't right. She was starting to become a little uncomfortable under his gaze though, her bright green eyes loosing their little sparkle, going a shade darker in colour. She held his gaze though, watching as he walked backwards to the door slowly. "The address is 221B Baker Street and the name is Sherlock Holmes." He flashed her a bright eyed grin, winking to her as he left the room, shouting a "Good afternoon," to Sam.

Aven took in a deep breath, turning to Sam with a smirk on her gothic features.

"Yeah." He said, a smile on his own features. "Like I said; not really a normal guy."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll get on perfectly." She said, confident in her abilities; both to know what she needs to do and to judge a person. And she had him practically figured out already.


	3. Chapter 4

Chapter Two

As she walked down the street, she noted that the sun was out again today, the temperature a little warmer than the day before. This was why, as she had left the hotel she had stayed at the night before, she hadn't bothered to do up her jacket, exposing her corset covered torso.

Today her corset was still a dark one, but the centre had a lace covered strip of dark red material running from the bottom getting wider at the bust so that it came to meet the two black PVC shoulder straps, silver buckles glinting in the evening light. She also wore her choker today, a strap of black velvet with a cold metal work in celtic swirls, an icy blue stone set in the center, a thin chain falling down with a darker blue crystal droplet hanging off of it, resting against the dip between her collar bones. The same pair of black boots as the day before and a clean pair of faded black skinny jeans completed the look.

As she approached the glossy black door, she saw a cab pull up, seeing Sherlock Holmes get out and hand the driver some money. She waited for him, putting down her suitcase which she had brought with her, handbag over her shoulder, hands holding the chain once more.

As Sherlock got out of the cab, he spotted his potential new flatmate waiting on the pavement for him. He strode forward offering a hand for her to take. "Miss Ash." He welcomed.

"Mr Holmes." She smiled, shaking his hand firmly. Sherlock noted a second tattoo; a snake, the thin body of which twisted around her middle finger three times, the tip of the tail resting against the edge of a plain, but long, manicured nail. The head of the animal was a little bit larger than the diameter of a ten pence piece, showing detailed snake skin and the eyes of the creature. It was a rather nice design, if a little strange. "And please, call me Aven."

"Then call me Sherlock." He retorted with a small grin.

Aven Ash was different from most others, he had concluded. He didn't quite know how he had come to think it, but he decided that with her around, things would probably be just that little less boring.

She just smirked, leaning down to pick up her case. "Shall we then, Sherlock?"

"Indeed." He replied, going over to the door, knocking thrice before turning back to see her watching him. The eye he could see glinted a dark yet somehow bright green that was bordering on teal. "The landlady - Mrs Hudson - was able to get me a special rate."

"Let me guess; you helped her out a few years back." She stated, a knowing look in her visible eye.

"Yes." He said. _At least she can connect things and form a valid conclusion, unlike most, _he thought. "Her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I helped her out a bit."

"He can't have treated her very well…" She replied, voice fading a little towards the end. She, of course, knew exactly what he was talking about. Sherlock frowned at her however. He hadn't mentioned anything about helping the man's life end a little sooner, anyone else would think that he helped free the man. Just as he was about to ask her about her reply though, the door opened, revealing a purple clothed and beaming Mrs Hudson.

"Sherlock!" She said happily, taking him in a hug. As she stepped back to let them in, she took one look at Aven, eyes widening slightly at her strange and unusual appearance. "Who's this then, Sherlock?"

Aven didn't mind the look she received from the other woman, knowing she wasn't very good at first impressions. She just flashed her friendliest smile, giving a small wave. "Aven Ash, possible flatmate."

"Ah!" Said Mrs Hudson, turning to the stairs at the side of the shadowy hallway. "This way then. There's a living room and kitchen, both in good nick, with a decent sized bathroom and a couple of bedrooms upstairs, if you'll be needing two." The lead them to the living room in question, Sherlock taking off his coat and scarf as he went.

Aven pretended to think about it for a second, Sherlock shooting her a curious glance as they went into the living room. "Hmm…I think we'll probably be needing that second room, Mrs Hudson." She said, turning to the woman, and winking in a joking manner.

Mrs Hudson only grinned at the younger woman, finding she was in fact perfectly friendly, trying to make an attempt to tidy the place up a little bit, Sherlock's boxes and possessions strewn all over the nice living room. "Oh, don't worry dear!" She said, going along with the young woman for the fun of it. "There's all sorts round here. Mrs Turner's son next door even has himself a husband! Lovely couple they are too."

Aven just chuckled, setting down her suitcase by the door. She hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, looking around the place. "Well, this is certainly very nice."

"Yes." Sherlock agreed. "That's what I thought, so I decided to just go ahead and move in."

"I can see that." She replied and he looked up to meet her eye. He noticed it was much lighter than it was three minuets ago. _Too much of a change to be the light though_, he thought. He was about to ask her about it but Mrs Hudson interrupted once more.

"Sherlock! The mess you've made!" She shouted from the kitchen, having found his science equipment. Aven just smiled as she went to sit in a chair, crossing her legs, taking off her jacket as she went. Sherlock glanced to her as she did so, seeing her toned arms, a flawless pale cream, a little bit of muscle pushing through the skin. He tried to see the underside of her left wrist, but it was pressed lightly against the arm of the chair, hiding the still unknown ink.

Ignoring the comment from Mrs Hudson, Aven struck up a conversation, watching Sherlock potter around the living room, putting away books and other random things. However, she didn't say her thoughts, something else catching her attention. "Is that a skull?"

He looked up, glancing to the mantle. "A friend of mine. Well…" He revised. "I say friend."

She just smirked, going back to her thoughts. "I looked you up on the internet last night."

He raised an eyebrow, the topic catching a little more of his attention. "Find anything interesting?"

"The Science of Deduction." She told him, smiling slightly. He found himself at a loss as to why though. _Maybe she's just happy_, he pondered, though the deduction didn't seem quite right. "Impressive, if a little…astounding."

"Don't believe it?" He asked, used to people underestimating his abilities at first.

She went a little on the defensive then. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I mean no offence. I just find it a little unlikely that you can tell so much about a person just by looking at them." She felt a little hypocritical saying it though, considering her own experiences. _Proof of thought would be nice though, _she thought.

Sherlock just looked at her. "You believe I can do it, though."

She smirked. As she did so though, what he saw made his eyes widen a fraction - a movement she didn't miss, knowing he had seen the change.

The change itself was a small one, not noticeable to most, but she felt it, and he saw it. A bright blue crept into the bright green of her single visible eye, mixing with the bright green, creating a mischievous, yet calm and knowing deep sea blue, laced with sea green.

Sherlock decided to wait and see if anything else happened to the young woman's eyes before making any enquiries about the happening, though that didn't stop his mind trying to understand what happened. He was pulled from his racing thoughts by two little words, possibly a couple of his favourite.

"Prove it."


	4. Chapter 5

Chapter Three

He smirked as he went to sit in the chair opposite her, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. She leaned on her knees also, lacing her fingers together, resting her chin on them. This allowed him to see the ink on her wrist.

_Peponi_

_Interesting_, he thought before his eyes snapped back to her now bluey-green one. Just as he went to open his mouth though, Mrs Hudson spoke.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" She said and Aven saw Sherlock's slight annoyance with the older woman's interruption. "Thought that'd be right up your street. Three in three weeks."

"Four." Corrected Aven, not looking away from Sherlock. "And he hasn't been asked to help…yet." She smirked at the end, knowing what was to happen in the next few seconds.

Sherlock frowned though; he'd been following the case. "There's only been three." He told her.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, smirk growing. "Oh, really? I say _four_."

Just as Sherlock was about to retort with how he would have heard about it by now had there been a fourth, a man burst into the living room.

Aven just sat back as she took in his appearance. Dressed in a long grey coat, greying hair and a slightly aged face, the man breathed heavily, looking to Sherlock.

He couldn't see how she had known, it was impossible. But Sherlock went with it, knowing that he would find out later, but rather sooner. Turning to Lestrade, he didn't miss a beat. "What's different ? You wouldn't have come otherwise."

"You know how they never leave notes?" The panting man asked.

"Of course." Sherlock replied.

"Well this one did." Sherlock hummed in reply. "Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked in reply.

The man seemed a little reluctant to reply however. "…Anderson."

Sherlock pulled a nasty face at the name though. "He doesn't work well with me."

"He wont be your assistant!" Argued the man. Sherlock just let out a long sigh. "Will you come?"

Sherlock waited two seconds before replying calmly. "Not in a police car. I'll be in a cab behind."

"Lauriston Gardens." The man told him, getting a nod in return. Nodding to both woman, the unknown man took his leave.

As the front door closed again, Sherlock leapt off the seat, going to grab his coat, mind racing in so many directions it was heard for him to keep track; How could she know of the fourth death? Who was this fourth? How did she know he'd be asked to helped? What new information was there? _Who was she?_

"Mrs Hudson!" He called out, seeing her move in from the kitchen. "I wont be in for tea."

"Do be careful dear." She replied giving him a look. "I know what you're like."

Running off down the stairs, he called out to the two women. "Aven, make yourself at home. And Mrs Hudson, I'm always careful."

The woman just snorted as Aven replied. "I will. Have fun now."

The phrase made him pause, standing in the hallway frowning. Anderson would only be annoying and she did seem to be half way intelligent. _But how did she know about the fourth? _A voice argued_, she shouldn't be on the crime scene!_

_But I could see if it was her if she were on the scene, _Sherlock argued back. _The only problem is how to get her onto the scene…_

23 seconds sounded about right to her, so she waited, crossing her legs and counting down in her head.

"Look at him, running all about the place." Mrs Hudson said fondly, looking from the door way to Aven. "You don't seem the sitting down type either, though I try not to judge a book by its cover."

"He'll be back…." Aven told her quietly before turning around to grin at the older woman, following her next comment with a wink to her. "Besides, I'm not as bad as I look."

"Oh, don't worry, dear. Even I had my wild days!" Mrs Hudson replied, earning a chuckle from Aven. "Anyway, do you want a cuppa? I might have some custard creams in the cupboard."

_5...4..._

"Thank you, but I'll be off out soon." Aven said. She didn't know where - the crime scene seemed like the right place but she wasn't one hundred percent sure - she was sure she was going though, it was decided.

_3...2...1..._

Right on time, Sherlock wondered onto the landing once more, though Mrs Hudson didn't see him there.

"Alright, well I'll be just downstairs if you need anything." The older woman offered as she went to the doorway. "Oh, I thought you'd left Sherlock."

"In a minute or two maybe." He replied, offering her a small smile as she passed him to go down stairs.

"Forget something?" Aven asked, the knowing smirk back in place, eyes swimming a bright green once again - something Sherlock didn't miss.

"How did you know about the fourth one?" He asked, ignoring her question. Her eyes only brightened though, almost glowing in the evening light that streamed through the dusty windows.

Aven let out a low chuckle, replying in a cheeky fashion that revealed her age more than anything else. "Knowing things is what I do best, Mr Holmes."

"Qualifications?" He asked, wanting to get an insight into what sort of things she would know most about.

"A's in all my GCSE's; English literature and language, Welsh, advanced maths, triple award performing arts, standard, advanced and computer science and psychology. I also did a home course of a university standard in herbalism." She explained quickly, rattling off her qualifications that she knew off by heart before giving the man a smirk, deciding to brag a little. "I was the best healer in my own village - including the doctor - and several of the surrounding villages."

"Young though…" He replied, pulling on a glove.

"Yes, but what's wrong with that?" She asked, smirk still in place - she knew it was decided after all.

"You do seem to know a lot." He reasoned, still arguing with himself, even if he knew what he would do in the end.

He saw that she also knew, standing up from her seat and walking over to stand in front of him. "Mr Holmes, we both know I'm going with you. You can argue about it in the cab if it makes you feel any better though."

He frowned as she called him by his surname; _no one does that_. He sighed though, knowing she was right. "Well, Miss Ash," _two can play at that game_, "If we both know it, what's there to argue about?"

"Touché." She chuckled. "Shall we then?"

"After you." Replied Sherlock, hoping he wasn't going to regret taking her along.


	5. Chapter 6

**Chapter Four**

Hailing a cab, Sherlock watched Aven get in, noting her unusual gracefulness in the action. Thinking on the short time he had spent with her, he realised she was, in fact, quite a graceful person.

They sat in the back quietly, Sherlock having told the driver where to go. He was waiting for the questions of what was happening, where they were going. They never came though. One little statement did however.

"You still haven't given me any proof." She said, still looking out of the window but there was humour in her voice.

He didn't look at her, but the smirk in his eyes was very visible, should she catch it. "You're from a small welsh village, you didn't like it though, they underestimated you, you barely ever had a challenge. You were different from nearly everyone else, though you didn't see that until they started treating you like an outcast, you were separate from the other children in school. You still wanted to be friends though, a part of you still wants to be friends with people, so you learnt, offered to help some of the older folks until one day you corrected the village doctor and started to go a little wider than just the older people of the area.

"Even your parents thought you were different; they saw your eyes. You weren't very close with them and when they tried to hide you a little more, you pushed back, you got your tattoo's and piercings. I think it's safe to assume that you moved out at a young age too, possibly being kicked out, maybe you wanted to get away from them. You didn't go far though, staying and helping the village people with all their little problems.

"You're confident in yourself and your ideas, sure of what you think is right and what isn't, so you pay attention; a lot of attention. You were bored in your little welsh village and so came to the big city of London, trying to find some excitement, but your not quite used to it yet, eyes always sparking with curiosity.

"Which brings us round to your eyes. I'd think possibly a chemical pigment that reacts to chemicals that are released in your brain, altering the colour of your eyes; a bright green when your more relaxed and an almost blue colour when your less happy." He frowned slightly. "You're also very trusting. You don't know that many people, you don't have many phone numbers, but yet you get a flat share with a complete stranger. Rather a stupid move when you think about it."

There was a second of silence before it was broken by a low chuckle from Aven. "Well done, Mr Holmes, but I'm afraid you're quite wrong on several accounts. Yes, I have come from a small welsh village, my accent makes that obvious, but I enjoyed it there very much and always had a challenge. Yes, I am very different but I'll let you work that out for yourself." Her tone darkened slightly then. "People fear what they don't understand and will do what they will in turn. I have no parents; I was raised by the local foster family since birth. As for my tattoos and piercings, I like them. Simple as that. And yes, I suppose I did move out young; seventeen, in fact, but I managed and it was my choice.

"I know what is right and what isn't, and…" Her tone coloured itself with a touch of humour then." …if I don't, then commenting on the topic only adds more confusion, so I don't. If I'm not confident in myself, no one else will be either. As for my coming to the city, it was time. My eyes however remain a mystery to me. I have never been to a doctor about them, my eye sight is perfect and I believe it will be for the rest of my life." She turned to face him, her one visible eye a bright and bold green, a smirk playing on her gothic lips. "But you must be observant as well to figure out as much as you did. A real thinker, indeed."

Sherlock was a little shocked he had gotten so much wrong. He was never wrong; certainly not that wrong. That's why it took him a few seconds to realise what she had said. It surprised him. "Really?"

She chuckled lowly. "Of course. You disagree?"

"No, of course not." He answered immediately; of course he was a thinker, always had been. "That's just not what people usually say."

"And what do people usually say?" She asked, curious to the answer.

He just turned to her, looked her in the one bright eye and said, "Piss off."

She just laughed and found him joining in with her. The rest of the cab ride was silent and as they pulled up to the crime scene. She got out of the cab, Sherlock just behind her.

"You haven't asked where we're going or why." Sherlock stated.

"Do I need to?" She retorted, not looking back to him.

_Suppose not, _he thought, frowning. He had the strangest feeling that his life was about to get a little stranger than normal.


	6. Chapter 7

**Chapter Five**

As the cab pulled up, the pair of them getting out, Aven saw all the police activity in the street; flashing lights, police tape, people in uniforms as well as fewer people in regular clothes, but with an air of importance about them. Sherlock seemed quite used to the activity however and just walked confidently towards what appeared to be the source.

"Hello Freak" Came a female voice. Snapping one visible eye to the woman, she saw a mousy looking woman with rather frizzy hair standing behind the tape.

Sherlock just ignored the opening comment. "I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade."

The woman just turned to him. "Why?"

"I was invited." Sherlock threw back at her, sounding tired of the interaction already.

"Why?" Was the childish reply.

"I think he wants me to take a look." _Well if she wants to act like a child_, he thought.

The woman just sneered at him. "Well, you know what I think don't you?"

"Always Sally." Countered Sherlock, pulling the tape over his head, holding it up for Aven. He hadn't noticed any familiarity when they arrived, but was still keeping a close eye on her. Breathing in through his nose however, he caught something else. "I even know you didn't make it home last night…"

"I don't -" She started, but noticed Aven about to move under the tape. "Wait, who's this?"

"Colleague of mine; Aven Ash." He explained, Aven just looking to Sally, waiting to be let in. "Aven Ash, meet Sgt Sally Donovan; old friend."

Sally didn't seem to believe him though. "A colleague? How do you get a colleague?"

Aven just smiled at the woman, ducking under the tape. "Very good luck."

Sally just sighed, going ahead. "Freak's here, bringing him in."

Aven just carried on looking around, though not as physically as Sherlock was doing, examining the stone floor they walked on, spinning in quick circles, checking out the entire space they wee in. On turning back to face they way they were heading however, he found a bird featured man in a blue suit, greasy hair falling past his ears. "Ahh, Anderson." He started, knowing what was to come. "Here we are again…"

The man just drew himself up, chin in the air, trying to compete with Sherlock's height. "This is a crime, I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

"Quite clear." He replied, ignoring the mans offensive posture. "And is your wife away for long?"

"Oh don't pretend you worked that out, someone told you that." Anderson shot back.

Sherlock just looked bored. "Your deodorant told me that."

Frowning slightly, Aven gave Sherlock a strange look. Apparently she wasn't the only one confused. "My deodorant told you that?"

"It's for men!" Sherlock replied animatedly.

This only confused them more however. "Well of course its for men; I'm wearing it!"

Sherlock just looked him in the eye. "So's Sgt Donavan."

Aven just raised an eyebrow, chuckling to herself; _certainly more entertaining than the village!_

Anderson however just looked to Sally, both shocked. Before he had a chance to defend himself however, Sherlock did a very dramatic sniff. "And I think its just vaporised." He joked. "May we go in?"

"Now whatever your implying here…" The forensic started, but Sherlock beat him to the punch.

"I'm not implying anything!" The man defended, tone saying something entirely different. "I'm sure Sally just popped round for a nice chat and just happened to stay over." Aven just smirked and followed after the observant man, smirk growing with every new deduction about the pair, implications clear as day. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors going by the state of her knees…"

Still chucking quietly to herself, the two of them went through to the main room where they were set up, Sherlock handing her a blue suit the same as Anderson's. "You'll need to put this on."

"Not really my colour, but alright." She replied, taking the suit off him and starting to step into it, doing so easily with the fitted clothes she was wearing.

Lestrade seemed to have other ideas though. "Who's this?"

"She's with me." Was the only answer the DI got from the man.

"Yes, but who is she?" He persisted.

Sherlock just looked him in the eye. "I said, she's with me."

The DI sighed and looked to the unusual looking young woman. He was slightly distracted by her in that moment, the young woman having taken off her coat and put it to the side, pulling most of her hair back into a bobble to keep it out of her way; leaving her in the blue suit, done up to just below her bust, her corset clad figure showing clearly, choker and her dark make up, thick fringe still covering half her face.

Seeing his lingering gaze, Aven just smirked, finding that she rather liked the men of the city, not so quick to judge a darker woman. Letting her hands fall to her side again, she flashed him a crooked smirk and flicked her fringe back slightly so that her other eye could see, winking at the man before following after Sherlock.

Snapping out of his daze by the sound of her heels, Lestrade shook his head, not knowing what even come over him then. Clearing his throat, he followed after them, catching them up on the situation.

"We're on the top floor." The DI started. "Call came in a few hours ago. Name's Jenifer Wilson. We're checking her credit cards and everything now. Some kids found her…"

At this new information, Aven thought of those kids and what they must be going through. "Poor kids…"

When they reached the top floor, Lestrade went in first, stepping aside for the others, Sherlock looking around instantly, analyzing every speck. Aven hung back by the doorway, seeing the blond woman face down in an empty, dusty room. _What a way to go._

Suddenly Sherlock looked up. "Shut up." He told Lestrade.

Lestrade however was brought out of his thoughts. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking." The man replied. "It's annoying."

It seemed Lestrade was about to argue back but then thought better of it, sighing quietly to himself.

Having what he thought would be appropriate silence, Sherlock started to see everything he could about the corpse clad in pink in front of him; the scratches in the floor, her fingernails, wedding ring, necklace, bracelet, umbrella, coat, the collar of the coat, the back of her calf. It all ran through his mind, almost as if it were written in little notes before his very eyes.

Serial adulteress.

Standing straight again after less than a minutes, he removed the gloves he'd put on, taking out his phone.

"Got anything?" Asked Lestrade, knowing the man worked fast.

"Not much," He replied.

An annoying voice chipped in then. "She's German."

Aven raised an eyebrow and Anderson. "Oh, really…?" She didn't know much at the moment, but she did know the woman wasn't German.

"Rache." Anderson said, talking slowing, as if to a slow child. "It's German for revenge. I think she was trying to tell us something."

Aven really didn't like the man now; she wasn't stupid by any means. "Or she was writing something in English and didn't get round to finishing it." She countered, throwing him a challenging look.

"No, no, you see-" he started to argue back, still in the most condescending voice she had ever heard. However he was quickly shut out, literally, by Sherlock closing the door on him.

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock said, more out of standardisation than anything else.

Lestrade spoke up then, wanting to check the word of one of his men over Aven's, much to her distaste. "Hold up now, Sherlock. She could be German."

"Of course she's not." Dismissed the man. "She's from out of town though. Intended to stay one night before returning home for Cardiff. So far so obvious."

Aven though was having trouble keeping up; she wasn't used to physical evidence to work with. "Sorry, obvious?"

Lestrade appeared to be having the same problem. "But what about the message?" Aven just shot him a look.

"Miss Ash, what do you think?" Sherlock asked. _Eyes are different again_, he noted, the colour becoming more of a dark but clear blue colour, like a deep sea.

She frowned slightly, thinking before she spoke. "Well, if it's a message, and she knew she were dying, it wouldn't be long. Might even say no more than the single word."

"So…?" The man encouraged.

"So, the only thing I can see it being would be _Rachel_." She answered, knowing as soon as the name passed her lips it was the right answer.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his features, _intelligence_. It was gone by the time he turned to Lestrade though. "Did Anderson manage to get a cause of death or not?"

Lestrade hesitated for a second, knowing the consultant wouldn't like the answer. "Not yet." Sherlock sighed loudly. "But there was talk that it looked the same as the others."

"Good enough for now then I guess." Replied Sherlock, unhappy that a team of people couldn't figure out how one woman died. _I bet I could bring in a random doctor and it would take them two minutes_, he thought irritably.

"Well?" Asked Lestrade, getting impatient.

"Victim's in in her later 30's, professional person; judging by her clothes, I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff intending to stay for one day, judging by the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase?" Asked Lestrade.

"Yes. She's married, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them knew she was married." He continued.

Lestrade just looked in disbelief. "Are you making this stuff up?"

"Her wedding ring." Sherlock pointed out. "Ten years old at least. The rest of the jewellery as been regularly cleaned, cared for. Not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside, which means its regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. Its not for work, look at her nails, she doesn't work with her hands much. So it must be for something else, so what does she remove her rings for, or rather who? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the illusion of being single that amount of time, so most likely a string of them. Simple."

"That's brilliant" Aven praised, truly seeing the man in his element here. Sherlock just looked at her though, not used to such descriptions of himself. Thinking she may have interrupted his line of though, she held up her hands slightly. "Sorry."

Lestrade broke the silence then. "Cardiff?"

Sherlock frowned slightly. "Its obvious isn't it?"

Aven shook he head though. "Not obvious to me."

This only made him frown more. "Dear god. What must it be like in your funny little heads? It must be so boring."

Aven started chuckling slightly thinking that if he were in her head, he wouldn't be bored ever again. However after another funny look from him, she cleared her throat and tried to keep quiet.

He explained. "Her coat. It's slightly damp; she's been in heavy rain in the last few hours, no rain in London in that time. The underside of her collar is damp too, she had it turned up against the wind, but her umbrella was dry. So strong wind. Too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was only intending to stay the one night so she's come a fair distance, but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still isn't dry. So, where has there been strong wind and rain within that travel time?" He got out his phone, showing them the weather report on the screen. "Cardiff."

Aven could honestly say she was very impressed. "That's fantastic!"

Sherlock seemed to find it very unlikely she'd praise him so much in such a short space of time though. "Do you know you do that out loud?"

"Sorry." She repeated, still shocked at the genius of it all. "I'll shut up now."

"No." He countered, making her look up. "It's fine."

She just smirked slightly at him. "But good as you are, there's something you've missed." She told him, smirk growing as his face dropped.

"What?"

She let a chuckle slip through, eyes twinkling, green seeping through again. "There's something you've missed." She said again slowly.

Having had enough of her crypticness, Lestrade spoke up. "Why do you keep going on about a case?"

Sherlock just looked her deep in the eyes, thinking about everything; then it clicked. Spinning around in a circle, he searched the bare room. Finding nothing, he turned to Lestrade. "Where is the suitcase?"

"That's what I'm saying Sherlock." The DI explained. "There was no case."

Sherlock bolted out of the room then, shouting through the building. "Has anyone seen a suitcase? Did anyone find a case in this house at all?"

They followed after him quickly, Lestrade repeating himself. "Sherlock, there was no case!"

Leaning over the balcony, they saw he'd stopped halfway down the stairs. "They take the poison themselves. Chew, swallow the poison themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them."

"Yeah right, thanks." Lestrade muttered, but seeing Sherlock was on his way out, he tried to stop the man first. "And?"

"Its murder." He replied, looking up to them. "I don't know how, but its murder. All of them. They're not suicides. They're killings, serial killings. Got ourselves a serial killer, love those!" He exclaimed, taking off towards the exit again. "Always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade questioned, though not sure if it was for information or his own sanity.

"Her case." Sherlock replied. "Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here and took the case with them when they left. So the killer probably drove here." Se started, thinking aloud again. "Forgot the case was in the car. And it wouldn't be at the hotel, look at her hair! She colour co-ordinates her lipstick and her shoes, she'd never leave the hotel with her hair looking like…" But he stopped then, an idea coming to him.

Aven smiled slightly, knowing the genius was on the right track, just needing a prompt to get him to explain it. "You okay, Sherlock?"

The madman just grinned. "Serial killers, always hard. Gotta wait for them to make a mistake."

Lestrade didn't like this answer though. "We don't have time to wait!"

"No, look at her, really look!" Sherlock countered. "Houston we have the mistake! Get onto Cardiff!" He ordered, running off again. "Find out who Jenifer Wilson's family and friends were! Find Rachel!"

"Of course, yeh." Lestrade started but seeing the man had just gone out of sight he shouted down, "But what mistake?!"

"Pink!" Was the only reply they got before Sherlock ran out the front door.

Aven just looked after him, even though he was gone already. Giving out a short hmm, she turn around, going back to the body in the room. Lestrade folwed her, part curiosity, partly to make she she didn't disturb anything.

Lestrade heard her muttering to herself, trying to catch up with the madman's thinking. "There must have been something he saw." Thinking about what would happen if you had a suitcase with you, she talked it out. "Pull it behind you... But there was rain… so… " She looked to the backs of the woman's ankles, grinning when she found it. Looking up to Lestrade, she pointed. "Mud splatter."


	7. Chapter 8

**Chapter 6**

Having caught up, mostly, with the strange man who just ran out the building, Lestrade and Aven went back downstairs.

"Just so I know for the future, does he usually run off like this?" She asked the older man.

Lestrade just gave a long suffering sigh. "God help us, I don't even know anymore. He's just so unpredictable..."

Aven just hummed in response, removing the blue suit and putting her coat on again, thinking about leaving. The thing was, she didn't think she was going back to Baker Street just yet.

Frowning at her lack of definite knowledge, she took her leave, heading towards the main road at the end of the street. As she passed Sally however, the woman felt the need to give the younger woman some advise.

"Miss Ash!" She heard, turning around to see what the sergeant wanted. "A word of warning, stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

Finding that after dealing with a difficult genius who'd left her behind and having the feeling her night wasn't going to get any better, the young woman wasn't in the best of moods, her eyes having turned a darker, forest green in response to this. "And why would I do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath." the older woman replied with certainty. "And psychopaths get bored. One day he'll have his own crime scene."

Without missing a beat, Aven fired back. "He's no psychopath. And you really think if he's this good, simply committing the crimes will entertain him enough?"

Sally was stumped for a second before firing back in a petty voice. "He doesn't get paid you know. For being here. He gets off on it."

Aven frowned. "So he's helping you off his own back, for no reason other than to solve the case, and you treat him like this?" She took a few steps forward, the only thing in the small space between them was the crime scene tape; a line drawn between two sides. "You really should treat him with more respect."

With a final hard stare deep into the older woman's eyes, Aven turned and walked down the street, letting whatever it is that compels her guide her to where she needed to be. As Sally watched the strange young woman leave, she knew that there was something about her that should not be challenged; she didn't understand it, but just didn't have a good feeling about the unsual woman.

Meanwhile, Aven had found civilisation again but didn't want to hail a cab just yet. However, as she passed a kebab shop, she noticed the phone rang. Unsure of the reason, she found herself just watching it, hearing the rings call out to her, until a shop assistant went to answer it, the call cutting off just before he could reach it.

Shaking her head, she realised it probably wasn't such a great idea to be wondering the streets in an unfamiliar place in the dark. Picking up her pace, she soon found herself standing next to a red phone box, not too sure why she had stopped.

Two seconds later, the phone rang. Taking it as a sign, she thought _why not,_ and went into the box, picking up the phone.

"Hello there." She greeted in a welcoming voice.

"There is a security camera on the building to your left." Came a male voice. "Do you see it?"

_Okay, not what I was expecting…. But its got to be something_, she thought, contemplating the idea of just hanging up and walking away, knowing that she couldn't really; this was meant to happen like this. "Who is this?"

"Do you see the camera, Aven Ash?" Was the only reply she got.

Sighing, trusting that her instincts would let her know anything she needed, she looked around. "I see it."

"Watch." It moved away. "There is another camera on top of the building opposite, do you see that one?" Looking about, she saw that one also move away from her. "And finally, there is another one on the top of the building to your right." The same thing happened again; there were no camera's facing her anymore, no one to see what happened next.

Sighing, she figured she may as well play along. "That's a neat party trick that one…"

The man on the other end of the phone just chuckled. "Get into the car, my dear. I would make some sort of threat, but I imagine your situation is quite clear to you."

"Crystal." She replied flatly before putting the phone back on its receiver.

Getting out of the red box, she then walked around and got into the sleek, black car. Sat across from her was another woman, a little older than her, but far more fancily dressed.

"Hello there." Aven said, trying to start a converstation.

The woman just looked up in surprise at her tone of voice. "Hi."

Aven sighed and thought she may as well try again. "I haven't been in London long." she started, the other woman still looking at her phone, but not actually typing. "Is it always like this? Or am I just having one of those days?"

Trying to keep a straight face, the mysterious woman took in a steadying breath before answering. "I think it may just be one of those days, Miss."

Aven just nodded, sighing slightly. "I think you're right." She became more sombre then, her eyes going darker still the dark greens and blues mixing together, like seaweed in the ocean. "And I don't think its going to get much better, do you?"

The mysterious woman didn't say anything to this, however secretly found she liked the gothic young woman, but felt sad that her day really wouldn't get any better.

After a few more silent minutes, Aven simply enjoying the car ride, the vehicle rolled to a stand still. Taking a steadying breath, the young woman got out.

Looking up, she saw she was in some old warehouse, shelves a fair distance away, the main thing in the space being a shadow of a man, tall, leaning confidently against a hook handled umbrella.

"Ah, Miss Ash…" He greeted as she walked nearer, a rhythm in her movements and a smirk on her darkly painted lips.

She could see him clearer now; a man, a fair bit older than she, wearing a sharp suit, obviously important and comfortable enough that she could see he had a plan.

She didn't know why, though she rarely did, but the man reminded her of Sherlock; self assured, trusting himself that his plan would not fail in any aspect, and if it should veer off course, he could control it.

This man was a Holmes…

"I do have a phone you know." Walking right up to him, she stood at her full height, shoulders back and a cheeky smirk locked in place, as was her gaze on him. "You could have just phoned me… on my phone."

He didn't break the eye contact. "When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discrete. Hence this place." He gestured around with his umbrella.

She causally looked around her. "Needs a woman's touch, if you ask me." Winking at him; she was trying to put him off slightly.

The mysterious man just chuckled. "You don't seem very scared."

"You don't seem all that scary." She shot back.

"Bravery-" He started, but she cut him off.

"No." She stated, looking deep in his eyes, her own going a beautifully bright lime green; she could feel it rising from the back of her mind, a reflex to keep up with what was going on around her; she was starting to see more and more….

The man didn't quite know what to do; he'd had a plan. "No?"

"Not bravery." She elaborated slightly.

He just frowned, not understanding the peculiar woman in front of him. No one ever challenged him like this; even Sherlock made a point of being more aggravating. This woman however just corrected him, calmly but without reason.

"What would you call it then?" He asked, trying to gain some control of the situation again, but also for his own curiosity.

A slow, soft smile slipping onto her face, he eyes becoming wider as the colour grew stronger; they were completely green, brighter than the boldest leaves of summer, shining out like nothing he'd seen before.

"Knowledge." She told him, passion and reverence clear in the word that slipped past her lips.

He frowned deeper, for once learning something completely new though at the same time thinking he should know this. She just chuckled at his expression, enjoying the rare curiosity rather than the typical dismissal.

Moving slowly, deliberately she approached him, going to circle him as she spoke. "You for example, learn, sir. You use that knowledge to either put yourself above or at least on the same level as others." Having walked almost half a circle, she leant in behind him to whisper in his ear. "But you have to learn…"

"We all have to learn." He shot back, feeling unusually like prey being stalked, the predator circling him, playing with it's food before making the final kill.

"Wrong." She dismissed. "I don't. "

Mycroft huffed, getting a little more aggravated. "Of course you do, or you wouldn't know anything."

She just chuckled, starting to circle him again, her foot falls deliberate as her heels clicked with every single step. "It is possible to know without learning, Mr Holmes."

He snapped his eyes to hers; _impossible! _"How can you know that?" Sherlock wouldn't have told her, nor his assistant… no one else was involved… _how?_

"I didn't learn it." She taunted. "I just know…"

The woman was starting to seriously unnerve him; she knew far too much already with no explanation of how. "Its just a name." He dismissed.

Spinning to stand in front of him, a foot apart between them, eyes locking instantly she snapped a retort. "But it's not, is it? It's so much more… It's a meaning, a class of person; a genius, wealthy, powerful, cold, difficult, unusual, outcast from and above the rest." she frowned slightly, seeing deeper. "And so bored. Even you, with all you do, are bored out of your mind." She took a step back, spinning in a circle, arms wide, indicating the entire space. "Its why you need this. Not to scare me." She laughed, almost insanely. "Because you!" she pointed at his, a perfect nail singling him out in the room. "You…are bored…doesn't it drive you mad…?" She taunted, enjoying the squirming man in front of her.

"Enough!" He snapped. Taking a deep breath - not used to loosing his composure like that - he spoke again, keeping his voice level this time, the tension still present though. "Are we done?"

She just smirked. "You tell me."

"I think we're done." He answered in return, turning to walk away, trying to get the last word in, finality ringing clear in his tone. "Time to pick a side, Miss Ash."

"I don't need to pick a side, Mr Holmes." She replied, not missing a beat, but causing him to pause in his steps, though he didn't turn to face her. "Fate alone decides where I go."

Mycroft only stood for a second more before carrying on with his movements, the click of the tip of his umbrella on the solid floor the only sound before he heard her phone go off, a text coming through to her.

Getting into his own car, he waited until hers drove off before making his way, the strange woman having thoroughly made her point that she was not some other acquaintance of Sherlock's; she was something completely new.

He had to know more.


	8. Chapter 9

Hello, to who ever is reading this.

I've had this story going round my head for a very long while, not too sure if it's worth going on with though, so for now I'm not going to post any more, but if you'd like to see more then review or pm me and I will try and put some more chapters together.

For now though, I'll be focusing on the Silent Series. If you haven't read it, take a look. There's a fair few of them so no shortage of reading material :)

Thanks for reading, if you've made it this far and have been enjoying the story, let me know and I'll try and catch up. It will get finished one day, but no telling when if there's no feedback.

Toodlepip for now :)


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